


Tuesday - Men Don't Like a Sick Woman

by EmeraldEyedDreamer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Desk Sex, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Dramione Valentine's Day, F/M, Harry Potter - Freeform, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Office Sex, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldEyedDreamer/pseuds/EmeraldEyedDreamer
Summary: A/N: Prompt 55: Take care of your health. Men don't like a sick woman.





	Tuesday - Men Don't Like a Sick Woman

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Prompt 55: Take care of your health. Men don't like a sick woman.

 

 

 

“I still can’t believe you’re shagging Draco Malfoy.”

“Ginny shh!” Hermione cast a furtive glance behind them but the Burrow’s kitchen was empty. The distant sound of voices chattering indicated that all the other occupants and guests for the traditional Weasley Sunday dinner were elsewhere, leaving the two women alone to clean up the kitchen. 

Ever since little James was born, Hermione and Ginny would use these after-dinner moments to chat and catch up, while the rest of the family would play with the baby.

“I just don’t understand how it happened. That’s all. Based on how he treated you, Harry, and Ron at Hogwarts, among everything else, I’m just surprised.”

Hermione sighed, the dish she was washing the muggle way dripping sudsy water onto her trainers. “I know it’s entirely strange. Trust me, I think about it all the time.” Cutting a quick glance at Ginny, she blushed. “The strangeness I mean.” 

The redhead grinned and nudged Hermione with her hip as she hand-dried a large platter. “Uh huh, sure.”

“Oh hush.”

The two cleaned and dried dishes in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the after-dinner warmth and fullness. 

“So.....” Ginny began, setting the last of the freshly dried dishes aside. “Valentine’s Day is this week. Are you guys going to do something?” 

“No! Absolutely not!” 

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not dating. We’re just shagging. We don’t even go out to dinner together on normal nights. At most we’ll get some take away, watch muggle television at my flat, and then shag. He never even stays the night. It’s strictly sex. Nothing more. And Valentine’s day is for couples, like you and Harry. And Ron and Lavender.”

“Blegh.” Hermione chuckled at Ginny’s immediate show of distaste for her brother’s new girlfriend. “I honestly can’t believe he started dating her again.”

“I know Gin. I can't either. But what can I say about it? I broke up with him the night before our wedding!” 

“But that wasn’t even two months ago!”  
  
“Fair, but I started this weird dalliance with Draco right after so, again, I can’t say anything.”

“She’s just so...”

“Annoying?”

“Loud.”

“Twittering.”

“Fake.”

“Vapid?”

“Exactly.”

The two women giggled. 

“Ronald seems happy though. And at least he has stopped staring absolute daggers at me every time I pass him.” Hermione sadly removed her apron and draped it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs before sitting in the chair rather unceremoniously. “I still feel so horrible for what I did, but I knew that it would eventually happen anyway and waiting would make it so much worse. I have never been any good about timing when it comes to dating.”

Ginny enveloped the older girl in a warm hug. “I know. And Ron knows. He just had all these expectations built up. It was hard to let it all go, but I think even he knew it wasn’t working out like it should. I think a lot of it had to do with his little sister settling down and happy before him. He was racing to get to the finish line not realizing he was on the wrong broomstick.”

Hermione giggled into her friend’s side. “Did you just refer to me as a broomstick?”

“Shut up and listen to my wisdom.”

Ginny released the seated Hermione and stepped away, untying another one of Molly’s aprons. “Don’t worry Hermione. You’ll get back into the race. Pretty soon you’ll find your own broomstick to finish the race with.”

“Please stop with the broomstick metaphor, it’s weird.” 

“In the meantime, you have a nice sturdy one to ride and-”

“Ginny!”

“Ginny! Hermione dear. Have you finished cleaning up in here?” Molly bustled into the kitchen, holding a magazine in one hand and James in the other. Ginny reached for her son and snuggled him close. “Yes mum, we just finished and were talking about mine and Harry’s Valentine’s day plans.”

“Oh perfect! Now remember, if you and Harry decide to have a...late night, James is welcome to stay here. We have Percy’s room all set up as a nursery. In case you need some...alone time.”

Ginny blushed and it was Hermione’s turn to giggle at her friend’s embarrassment.

“Now Hermione look at this magazine. It’s an old copy of Witch Weekly from many years ago. It was printed when I was a little girl and has all sorts of tips for snagging you a young wizard.” Molly opened the yellowing pages of the old magazine and splayed it across the table in front of Hermione. Ginny sat in the chair next to Hermione and peaked at the back cover while Molly flicked through the pages. 

“Mum! This magazine is from 1958! Things have changed! I don’t know if any of these will still be useful in getting Hermione back on the broomstick.” She stuck her tongue out at Hermione who glared at her.

“Oh tosh. The times have changed but men certainly haven’t. Here we go! Look at that Hermione dear! Maybe a few of these could help you out.”

Hermione scanned the feature headline titled, in a horrifyingly lurid pink, “129 Ways to Catch a Wizard.”  

“Eurgh. Mum, some of these are absolutely terrible! ‘Read the obituaries to find eligible widowers!?’” 

“Well, all right, some of them are a little odd.”

“I don’t think odd is the word you’re looking for. ‘Get lost at a Quidditch Match.’ Sexist is more like it. Sexist and weird.”

“Oh well not everyone is a Quidditch star Ginevra. Harry and Ron told me Hermione isn’t a fan of riding broomsticks so that would - now it is not ladylike to snort Ginny Weasley Potter. Hermione, just keep the magazine. Read it over. It helped me get Arthur’s attention, maybe it could help you snag a wizard of your own; when you’re ready.”

Despite feeling much like Ginny on the subject, Hermione cherished the fact that her almost mother-in-law was so warm to her despite the fiasco that shook up the Weasley household not two months prior. It was Molly herself who ultimately encouraged Hermione to break of the engagement, although the the disastrous rehearsal dinner was likely not what she had in mind.

“Thank you, Molly. I’ll take it home with me tonight.” Hermione smiled at Molly, who planted a motherly peck on her cheek. Ginny snickered again, paging through the article with amusement. 

“Hermione. Be sure to ‘Take good care of your health. Men don’t like girls who are ill.’ What rubbish. Harry was positively ecstatic every time I got sick at the beginning of my pregnancy. Bastard.” 

“Oh Ginevra. I’ll leave you girls to it. I have to go check on your husband and brothers to make sure they haven’t broken a bone or set something on fire."

 

                                                                                                                      ***

 

Later that evening, Hermione stepped out of the floo at her flat in Muggle London. Brushing the stray bits of soot off her clothes, she set her wand and the magazine on her coffee table. Moments later, a hot cup of tea in hand, she sat down on her couch, next to a snoozing Crookshanks, and picked the magazine up. Turned to the earmarked article, she thumbed through it with mild interest, having convinced herself that while Mrs. Weasley meant well, most of the suggestions were likely not valid for the times; especially not where Hermione’s odd relationship status was concern.

Crookshanks, awakened by the sound of pages turning and Hermione’s sighs of disapproval at some of the suggestions, stretched on the couch, exposing his belly to the witch. Hermione absentmindedly stroked his fur. 

“Can you believe this Crookshanks? ‘Get a sunburn.’ Rubbish. Oh! How about this: ‘Talk to his father about business.’ Oh that would go over well. Could you imagine Lucius Malfoy discussing business with a Mudblood like me?” 

Crookshanks yawned in response and stood up. “That’s what I thought. Oh - what in Merlin’s - ‘If he’s rich, tell him you like his money - the honesty will intrigue him!’” Hermione tossed the magazine on the table. “Absolute bollocks.” Crookshanks looked at the witch as though he was more disturbed by her talking than the contents of the article and lept off the couch, padding toward the kitchen. 

“Exactly, what does it even matter, Crooks. There isn’t going to be anything more with me and Draco. We’re just friends with benefits....minus the friends part, I think.” With that, Hermione was lost in thought.

A soft tap on the kitchen window roused Hermione from her thoughts moments later. It was Draco’s owl Dionysus, with a slim roll of parchment tied to his leg. 

Hermione let the stately owl in, taking the message from him and unfurling it. The large tawny owl perched on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, ruffling his feathers and hooting a warning at Crookshanks who was watching him with a calculating stare from the floor. 

 

**_Granger, would you care to have dinner with me Tuesday evening? I have made a reservation at Ambrosia for 8:00pm. It is a proper wizarding restaurant - you won’t have to wear dress robes but I prefer if you didn’t wear those muggle trousers. I can send Pipsy to Madame Malkin’s for a nice gown if you would like. Send your response with Dionysus._ **

  
  
Hermione stared at the parchment for a moment. Draco actually wanted to eat out with her? In public? On Valentine’s Day? She let the slip of parchment flutter to the table and looked out the window, looking but not seeing.

While a very large part of her writhed in pleasure at the idea that he wanted to go out with her in public, she knew it would be a very bad move. It was far too early after the dissolving of her engagement. While Ron had already moved on, he wasn’t the one that had called off the wedding. It would look suspicious and - Merlin...she knew she was in no way ready to tell him or Harry about her relationship (or lack thereof) with Malfoy. Ronald had only just started speaking to hear again. It hadn’t taken Ginny long to accept the odd arrangement, but she had found out by accident and tended to be the most open-minded of Hermione’s friends. 

“No. I’ll just have to decline,” Hermione spoke aloud though the two other occupants in the room were glaring at each other and paying her little mind. 

Hermione grabbed a fresh bit of parchment and a quill from one of her kitchen drawers and jotted down a response, her hand shaking slightly. 

 

**_Draco, Thank you for the invitation but I won’t be able to have dinner. I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be seen in public so soon after_ **

 

Wait no. That might make him want to dissolve the relationship altogether. She didn’t want him to think she was ashamed. She was just not ready. What could she say that would stall any invitations of dinner that couldn’t be disguised as a business meeting but still leave the option open in the future?

“Think Hermione.”

Dionysus hooted shrilly, hopping onto the table from his spot on the chair. He pecked at her arm and ruffled his feathers again. 

“Yes yes. give me a minute to think you pretentious bird.” 

Giving Hermione a reproachful look, Dionysus began to preen, dropping bits of down and feathers on the table. Hermione didn’t notice.

“Oh!”

Hermione quickly grabbed another sheet of parchment and hastily wrote her reply. 

 

**_Draco. Thank you very much for your invitation but I won't be able to do dinner on Tuesday. I have a project that will keep me late that evening. I also haven't been feeling well the last few days. Raincheck?_ **

 

She scanned the reply several times, trying to think of something else she could add. As she did, Crookshanks leapt at Dionysus from his spot on the floor, causing the owl to let out a thundering screech and take wing.

“Bad Crookshanks! Bad!” 

Hermione rolled the parchment up and tied it to Dionysus’s leg. She went to open the window again, grabbing a few owl treats from the jar she kept on the sill and feeding them to the offended owl. “Off you go. Tell Draco I’m sorry.” 

The owl let out final hoot before taking off into the dark. Hermione closed the window and hurried into her living room. Grabbing a small handful of floor powder, she tossed it in the fireplace. “Number 12 Grimmauld Place.” 

A moment later she stood in the Potter’s large kitchen, once again brushing soot off of her. Hermione hated traveling by Floo. If it weren’t for the wards on all of their homes, she would much prefer to apparate. 

Ginny and Kreacher were sat at the large table, a large mug of cocoa in front of the former. 

“Hermione? Is everything all right?”

“He asked me to dinner on Tuesday.”

“Merlin’s pants! He did? Kreacher, go help Harry put James to sleep, please. And not a word to him about Hermione’s being here.”

Kreacher slowly climbed down from the chair, quite frail in his old age. While he was much warmer to everyone, including Hermione, than he had been at their time in Hogwarts, he was still a rather ornery sort. “Yes Mistress.”

Once Kreacher left Hermione explained the message from Draco. 

“I can’t believe it. He actually wanted to go out to dinner. Maybe you’re on the right broomstick after all.”

“Ginevra Potter I swear to Merlin if you don’t stop-”

“What did you say? In response?”

“I told him ‘no’ of course.” 

“Why?!”

“It’s far too soon. And I am not ready to tell the world about us when I don’t even think there is an actual ‘us’ to begin with! I wrote that I was busy at the Ministry that evening and that I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“What? No Hermione!”

“What?”

“Okay, that may be a valid excuse if you’re a muggle but you’re a witch. There is literally nothing we cannot treat that could keep you from seeing him except...oh dear.”

“What?” Hermione was confused. And then, “Oh no! He’s going to think I’m on my cycle. That’s not sexy at all.” Hermione sunk into a chair.

“I don’t think telling him you’re ill is meant to be sexy anyway.” 

“I should have just said I was busy for work.”

“Are you on your cycle?”

“What? No! I’m taking the potion that makes it seasonal.”

“Then send another message recanting your feeling ill.”

“I still can’t go out in public with him, Ginny. It’s too soon.”

“Right.” Ginny leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, as she pondered. “Ooh! I have an idea!”

 

                                                                                                                         ***

 

Tuesday found Hermione flooing into her flat shortly after eleven. She had askedKingsley for an early, extended lunch period to take care of some “personal matters.” Predictably, Kingsley had given her the rest of the day off to take care of whatever she needed to, probably assuming that she wanted to spend her first Valentine’s Day without Ron at home. He had mentioned that it worked in his favor because he had hoped to have a lunch meeting anyway but didn't want to leave her in the office, where she usually ate lunch, alone.

Filled with nervous energy, she paced around her living room, psyching herself up to start the plan that she informed Ginny was “absolutely bonkers.” 

“Trust me Hermione, it’ll be perfect.”

Getting a grip on her nerves, Hermione went to her bedroom and changed into the outfit she and Ginny had picked out the evening before. She put on some makeup the way Ginny had shown her, trying to keep her shaking hand from mucking everything up. When she was ready she stared at herself in the mirror. This was it. 

She pulled on the long, bottle green cloak that Draco had left at her flat two weeks prior, fastening it completely to cover what she wore. The Slytherin’s cloak looked out-of-place on her but it was not so unlike her standard work cloak that it would draw much attention from anyone but its owner. The only thing that might call attention would be the heels, but they were mostly obscured by the hem of the cloak. Perfect.

Not wanting to sully any part of her plan with soot, Hermione bypassed her fireplace and left her flat through the front door. She had twenty minutes to get to her designated apparation point, apparate to The Leaky Cauldron, and walk to Malfoy’s office in Diagon Alley. Easy. 

Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of the Malfoy Enterprises office. Austere compared to most of the other buildings that dotted Diagon Alley, it was the hub of a vast network of business dealings that Hermione truly didn't know the extent of. 

_A ponderance for another time, Hermione._

Hermione began to shiver so she checked her watch. 12:28. Perfect. Draco’s assistant was about to go on lunch and Hermione could begin phase two of the plan. 

Stepping inside of the office, Hermione relished the warm air that swirled around her, fighting off the chill brought about by her unusual attire. 

“Good afternoon Ms Granger. Do you have a meeting with Mr. Malfoy?” Hermione looked over to see Meriweather Scrivener standing at her desk, packing her things for lunch.

“Hi Meri. No, I’m just passing by on my way to lunch to give Mr. Malfoy a message from the Minister. Go ahead, I can just let myself in.”

The woman looked confused, stealing a glance at her calendar. Hermione froze. While she often came here on Ministry business, she worried her forwardness would tip off the woman to ulterior motives. 

Finally, Meriweather shrugged. “Go ahead, Ms. Granger. And would you mind letting Mr. Malfoy know that I have to apparate home for a moment after lunch?”

 _Perfect._ “Absolutely! Enjoy your lunch!”

A salvo of cold air burst into the office when Meri left, leaving Hermione to shiver again. Behind Meri’s desk was the ornate wooden door leading to Draco’s office. 

_All right Hermione, it’s now or never._

Taking a deep breath, Hermione rapped firmly on the door.

“Come in.”

Hermione was embarrassed to acknowledge that just the sound of his voice was enough to send a warm pulse through her body. She pushed open the heavy wooden door and peeked around into the large office.

Draco, sitting at his large walnut desk, looked up. “Granger? What are you doing-”

“Shh.” Hermione brought one finger to her lips as she slipped through the door. Draco looked confusedly past her, as if expecting Meri to appear behind her. 

“It’s just us, Meri went to lunch.” Hermione shut the door behind her and locked it with her wand. 

“Muffliato.” Satisfied that anyone that showed up outside wouldn’t be able to hear anything from inside the office, Hermione strode over to Draco, hoping she feigned more self-confidence than she felt.

“What are you doing here Granger? Hang on, is that my cloak?” Draco, now standing, walked around his desk

Hermione grinned. “You left it at my flat. I came to return it to you.” 

“All right, it’s just that-” 

Now standing in front of Draco, Hermione placed her index finger softly on his lips, quieting him. “Just watch,” she whispered, stepping backward.

Draco watched on quietly as Hermione began to undo the silver fastenings of his cloak. As each one was undone, glimpses of skin and black lace were revealed, capturing Draco’s attention entirely.

When the emerald cloak finally pooled at Hermione’s feet, she waited impatiently for Draco’s reaction. He stared at her in surprise, his gaze gliding down the lacy fabric of the body suit, past the garters that held up the black thigh-highs, settling on the black and green heels decorated with a silver serpent slithering up the too-tall heels. To add the final touch, Hermione removed her hairpins, allowing her unusually tame curls to cascade around her bare shoulders. 

Draco sucked in a breath as he took in the sight of her. “Fuck, Granger.”

Hermione beamed inwardly, sending silent gratitude to Ginny for her help. “That’s the idea, Draco.” She walked forward, pressing one hand to Draco’s chest, guiding him backwards until the back of his legs hit his desk. 

Her hands working quickly to unbuckle his belt, Hermione captured his lips in a firm kiss, which he returned with gusto. Her tongue teased his lower lip as her hands moved onto the button of his trousers; both were granted access immediately. 

As Hermione slipped her hand beneath the fabric of his boxers, Draco broke off the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged pants. “Hermione, wait, I need to tell you something. I-”

Hermione kissed him again while her hand enclosed around his hardening shaft, loosing a moan from him. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” she whispered against his lips before moving to plant a kiss on his jaw. Hermione felt him swallow hard as she traced hot kisses down his throat. Meanwhile, she languidly stroked his growing erection. 

With a final, full kiss on his lips, Hermione kneeled before him, easing his trousers and boxers down until they fell around his ankles. She grasped his cock again, resuming her relaxed strokes. She smirked up at Draco who watched her with hazy interest. Holding his gaze, she stilled her hand at the base of his shaft and ran her tongue up the length of the underside of his thick cock. Draco’s head fell back and he bit back a moan as her tongue swirled teasingly around the head. Hermione smiled and, encouraged, took him into her mouth. Draco’s hips bucked forward slightly. “Oh fuck, Granger.” The words had barely left his lips when Hermione moved her hands to grasp the back of his thighs, drawing him closer to her and effectively allowing her to take him as deep as she could. 

She pulled back, flattening her tongue as it ventured up his shaft. Hermione released his cock with a wet pop. Her tongue flicked out playfully, dipping into the slit and capturing a bead of precum, wresting another moan from his lips. Planting sloppy kisses down his shaft, Hermione cupped his balls, intending to give them just as much attention. Draco had other plans.

He knotted his hand in her curls and pulled her lips away from his balls, redirecting her mouth to pause at his swollen head. He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and looking down at her, his eyes imploring for permission. Hermione gave him a coy smile before wrapping her lips around him once more and allowing him to thrust into her mouth.

They fell into a frenzied rhythm, Draco’s moans of pleasure setting the pace for their impassioned activities. The sensation of his fingers entwined in her hair, pressing against her head, guiding her, was as intoxicating as the feel of his cock throbbing in the wet heat of her mouth. Hermione slipped a hand between her legs and feverishly rubbed her engorged clit through the lacy fabric of her lingerie.  She was dripping wet and ready, her pussy aching to be filled, but she was enjoying their current rhythm. 

Almost as if he had read her thoughts, Draco stopped thrusting, releasing his grip on her hair. He pulled out of her mouth and stared at her hard, drunken with lust. “I need to be inside you.” His voice was husky and dripping with arousal. 

Hermione grinned wickedly, swirled her tongue around his head one last time, before standing up. 

Draco cupped her face in his hands, kissing her fiercely. Then he turned them around and bent Hermione over his desk. A bottle of ink was knocked over, spilling its contents across several sheets of parchment, but neither of them cared. 

After a beat, Hermione looked back and caught Draco staring at her hungrily. Their eyes locked. “Granger, I can’t even begin to explain all of the things I want to do to you right now.”

Hermione shot him a sultry smile. “Fuck me, Draco.”

Without further hesitation, Draco pulled aside the fabric that covered her pussy and thrust two fingers inside. He moaned and his cock, which was pressed against her thigh, twitched in anticipation. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” 

It was Hermione’s turn to moan as his finger began to pump inside of her, slowly at first, but picking up speed with every thrust. Hermione’s nipples pebbled creating delicious friction as they rubbed against the lacy fabric and cool polished wood of the desk. With his other hand, Draco thumbed her clit, alternating between firm pressure and tantalizingly light touches.

Fullness blossomed deep within Hermione. Flushed with pleasure, she looked back over her shoulder. “Draco, please. Fuck me.”

Not needing to be told twice, Draco withdrew his finger and grasped his cock. He rubbed the head over her wet clit and lips, causing Hermione’s breath to hitch. Without further ado, Draco thrust inside of her. They both moaned as he buried himself to the hilt. Pausing only for a second, Draco pounded into her. Hermione felt one of her garters snap but she didn’t care, the feeling of Draco’s hard, frenzied thrusts coupled with his fingers digging into her hips demanded her full attention. Hermione began to thrust her hips back, meeting him thrust-for-thrust. 

“Fuck.” Draco was getting close. Wanting to finish with him, Hermione slipped her hand between her thighs and resumed her ministrations on her slick clit. The added sensation sent out pulses of pleasure. She clench her muscles around Draco’s cock and with a satisfied grunt he barreled over the edge, filling her with cum. Hermione followed in a close second, her pussy throbbing around Draco’s cock, milking every drop of cum from him. 

Still buried inside of her, Draco planted several kisses across her shoulders and back, his breath coming out in ragged but satisfied pants. After a moment, he straightened up, pulling out of her, to which they both moaned again.

Hermione stood as well, running her hand through her wild curls.

“So what...was that? Not that I’m complaining.”

Hermione giggled as she adjusted her lingerie and inspected the garter strap. “I felt bad for turning down your invitation to dinner and I wanted to surprise you.”

“Color me surprised, Granger.” 

Hermione leaned forward and kissed him. “Good.” 

“Does this mean you’ll join me for dinner then?”

Hermione sighed. “I think it might be too soon, still. We still have people to tell and people might get the wrong idea in regard to the recent end of my engagement.”

“Fair point.” Draco pulled up his boxers 

“But I have a counter offer.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Come over to my house tonight. We’ll get take away and you can show me a few of those things you mentioned wanting to do to me earlier.”

Smirking, Draco refastened one of his cuff links that had come unfastened. “I think that sounds like a capital idea, Granger. I do relish the idea of sullying you on various pieces of furniture in various positions.”

Pleasure pulsed down Hermione’s body, settling in her still aching quim. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Draco’s hungrily. He sighed against her lips, his tongue begging entrance. 

A chime signaled outside of Draco’s office and he pulled away with slew of expletives.

“Who is that?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. I have a meeting with the Minister in,” he checked his watch “one minute.”

Hermione jumped back with a gasp, nearly stumbling on her heels. “Oh no. He can’t find me in here. He sent me home for the day.”

Draco fervently pulled up his slacks and began to haphazardly tuck his button-up into the waist. A short knock sounded at the door. Grabbing her wand, Hermione reversed the muffling spell. 

“One moment, Minister.” Draco called, vanishing the spilled ink on his desk and righting the well. Then he looked himself over in the mirror, smoothing down his sex-tousled hair into some semblance of propriety.

“Where do I hide?” Hermione mouthed to Draco. “I can’t apparate out of here.”

Draco looked around and, seeing no nooks or crannies, pointed at his desk. 

“Seriously?” Hermione hissed in undertone. Draco shrugged and she rolled her eyes. 

Quickly, she clambered under the surprisingly spacious desk upon which she has just been fucked. She heard Draco walk across the office to unlock the door. 

“Good afternoon Minister. I’m so glad you could make time to meet with me.”

“Good afternoon Draco. I trust you are well.”

“Very well Minister, thank you. Have a seat.”

Hermione couldn’t suppress a grin, but managed not to allow a giggle to escape. 

After a moment, she she heard the sound of a chair pulling up to the desk, signally Kingsley taking a seat. Draco’s legs then appeared before her at the mouth of the desk.

Hermione scooted back as Draco sat in his chair, his legs almost enclosing her in. 

This had certainly not been part of the plan. 

“How have things been with you, Draco? Business treating you well?”

“Absolutely Minister. And I have you to thank for that. Business has been going almost as well as my personal life.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes. I recently started seeing someone.” Hermione pinched Draco’s leg.

“Indeed? May I ask who?”

“My apologies Minister. I think it might be too soon, still, to tell.” Hermione glowered at his use of her words.

“I understand.”

“You see. She’s very shy. Not at all the adventurous sort.”

Hermione balked. The cheek! Oh wait until she got out from under this desk and- wait. 

A delicious idea formed in Hermione’s mind.

_Oh I’ll show him adventurous._

Hermione slowly reached a hand forward and began to stroke the inside of Draco’s thigh.

But that is a story for another time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
